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Global, then the rest of the time we’re on vacation. Not looking.”  
    “I thought we said a week — “
    “ You said a week. We’re spending two weeks there, and I’m not wasting half of it tracking out a mysterious organization.” Julie didn’t push any further; she knew Ben was much more adamant about chasing the nebulous organization that had almost cost them their lives. She wanted to know who they were as much as he did, but she was more than happy to leave the detective work to actual detectives.  
    Ben didn’t respond at first, but when she didn’t stop staring at him, he finally nodded. “Yeah, right, I know. Three days. But if we find —“
    “No, Ben. Three days. That’s it.” She wanted to sound decisive, firm, but the words sounded tired. She was tired — Yellowstone and the debriefing sessions with the government and media in the following months had taken their toll, and she was ready to be done with it. Like her mother always said, “sometimes you don’t get closure, you just move on.”  
    Ben, however, was not the type of person who could simply “move on.” He was far too stubborn and driven to move on. It was probably the most frustrating thing about the man. Julie loved that she could count on him to finish a project, no matter how large, but she had to balance that with the reality that he tended to focus on nothing else until the project was finished.  
    She was always afraid that he would eventually find some lead, a small thread of information that might pique his interest in the case once again. She’d even considered not telling him about Paulinho’s call, but she knew he was too smart for that. He’d ask who had called, and he’d know it was something serious, and she would eventually tell him.  
    So it was with great reluctance that she told Ben about the possible lead in Brazil, put their vacation on hold, and agreed to fly to Brazil with him to dig around for a few days. If everything went as planned, they’d spend a few days with Paulinho and his friend Amanda Meron, checking through her company’s investment documents and funding details, and possibly examining some of the research, then they’d spend another ten days lazing on the beautiful white sand beaches and drinking with the locals.  
    If everything went as planned.  

8
    BEN MASSAGED HIS HANDS, WORKING out the stiffness from white-knuckling the airplane seat’s armrests during their landing a couple of hours ago. He listened as the group shared welcomes and pleasantries, all of them waiting for their drink orders to be delivered. They sat around a circular table at a picturesque Brazilian cafe, an umbrella that stood over them blocking out the most egregious of the sunlight that bathed the city streets. Streams of shoppers and businesspeople moved around them on the walkway, navigating between the cafe’s street-side table.  
    The man who’d introduced everyone, Paulinho, still stood in front of his chair, a full-width smile on his face. He’d shaken Ben’s hand with a grip that seemed to want to impress, but not quite strong enough to feel useful. Ben couldn’t tell if he liked him or not, but as was his usual custom, he decided that he did not, but would allow the man to change Ben’s mind. The man’s skin was dark, deeply tanned from the Brazilian sun, and as he drew his hand away Ben noticed a small, circular tattoo on the inside of his wrist. He didn’t recognize the design, and couldn’t get a long enough look at it to decipher it further.
    To his left sat Julie, who blushed when Paulinho kissed her on each cheek. Ben couldn’t remember if that was supposed to be a European greeting or something the entire world did, but he still thought it was strange to see it in Brazil. Across from Julie, to Ben’s right, sat Dr. Amanda Meron, a young woman who seemed, in Ben’s opinion, better fit for a beach volleyball team than a science laboratory. Her skin was light, but bronzed with a